The English Fallout
by dearbella
Summary: This story starts where Jack and 'the tribe' are about to hunt and kill Ralph. Basically, Ralph runs away and finds out some pretty interesting things. If people like it, I'll add more to it! I own nothing, but the storyline.


**Okay, I just wrote this for English class and I'm IN LOVE with Lord of the Flies now, so I decided to post it here. I hope you guys all like it and it's my first fanfic for LoF, so be nice when reviewing PLEASE. But DO RxR! I love you all! I might add more if you want, by the way!**

The English Fallout

Ralph stopped short, watching Jack as the "tribe of savages" circled him, all their spears pointed in his direction. Jack's war paint covered his face, the choir hat still atop his head was dropping down, about to get into his face. Ralph watched with worried eyes how every one of the people he'd once thought were his friend's came around him.

He could pick out a few of the faces, even though they were all smeared with war paint: Jack, Samneric, Roger, Maurice, and even a few littluns crowded the outside of their circle – he could pick out Percival what's-his-name. He was the only one anymore, the only sane one. Jack gave his war cry and they all advanced on him.

The ring of boys suddenly split as Sam and Eric looked at each other, nodded, and moved away. They gave just enough room for Ralph to escape. The boys shrieked when he ran and started to cry once more, jogging after him as fast as they could. Jack was ahead, his knife and spear held out toward him, one raised and one lowered. He didn't ever want to be on the end of either, but he knew he would be soon.

As he made his way through the forest, his foot caught on a creeper and he went down, his hands flying out instinctively to cover his face from harm. His hands sunk into the dirt and were punctured by thorns, making him cry out into the air in pain. "Damn," he whispered, trying to wipe his hands off. The blood was going to leave some mark of where he was and where he was going to go.

Suddenly, he saw a place to escape to, a clearing. And there was smoke there. He ran to it, got down next to the fire and looked around. A hut? Who would make a hut without telling anyone? He slowly crawled over to it, making sure none of the other boys were in the clearing to see him.

"Who goes there?" a small, trembling voice whimpered from the middle of the hut. Ralph hadn't heard that voice in so long, he nearly screamed with joy.

"Simon! It's me Ralph!" he said, sitting on his knees after crawling into the small area. The first thing Ralph could see was Simon's eyes, then his smile. He put his spear down, probably only for protection knowing Simon. "How are you not dead? I thought we murdered you," the older boy said, wrapping shaking arms around his torso, trying to add pressure to his palms to stop the bleeding.

"It wasn't me… I was there, watching everyone. I saw you and Piggy and Samneric… I got scared and ran away." Simon shook his small head, a tear running down his cheek. "How could you do it, Ralph? Why did you kill that littlun? It was a littlun!" He shook his head again and looked down at Ralph's hands. "You're bleeding."

Ralph had started crying, too, but looked up suddenly when he heard the last part then back down at his hands. "It's just a few scratches… Jack and the others are chasing me… They've already tried to kill me. And they killed Piggy awhile back, Roger did anyways." He looked up at Simon and then cried out, "Oh Simon!" and hugged him as hard as his wounded, bruised body would allow.

The hug was passionate, tearful. Everything they had tried to keep had disappeared. Piggy had died, but Simon was alive. The conch was destroyed and Jack was on a murderous rampage. What were they to do?

A loud noise banged overhead and Ralph moved away to looked up at the sky at the hut's entrance. "It's a plane!" he yelled. "Simon, there's a plane and it looks like its landing!" Ralph ran out of the hut and moved back. "Simon, come on! Bloody hell! It's landing here in the clearing!" he screamed.

Tribal boys were poking their heads out of the forest, hearing Ralph's screams and knowing what they were after anyways. When they heard something of a plane, they looked up and shouted with him. Simon came out of the hut and stood by Ralph, arms crossed over his chest as if expecting this to have happened sooner or later, which he had.

Jack came out of the forest and ran to stand by Ralph and Simon. "Who invited them to the party?" he asked, his spear digging deep into the grass beside him. Ralph gave a small glare to Jack, but it had to have no use on him. His smile wasn't leaving his face since he knew what was happening.

As the plane laid itself down on the grass, a man opened a door.

"Daddy?" Ralph screamed. The boy did a double-take and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Daddy!" He ran to him and hugged his father, the older man who looked just like his son stroked his back. "Oh how did you find us?"

"It wasn't easy, my son. Not easy at all. I've been looking for you for months. How did you end up here and who are these boys?" Ralph's father asked as he looked around at all the thirty boys that came out to the clearing from the forest.

A small littlun came over and tugged on the older male's pant leg. "My name… is… My name is…"

"Percival," Ralph finished for him, wrapping his arms around the small six year old. "Jack, Simon, Roger, Maurice," he said, pointing at each boy and naming them off. Jack looked like he could die, which he probably thought he ought to.

Simon came over to the man and looked him in the eyes. "I told Ralph he would get home. Can we please go home?" he asked. Ralph's father nodded and they called climbed aboard his plane.

Finally, after eight months and three murders – Piggy, the birthmark boy, and "Simon" – they were going home.

**So let me know what you thought. Do you like it? I like it... -shrug; So review and if you like it, TOO MUCH, I'll make another chapter or so.**

**DearBella**


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